


While You Were Mine

by reliquexia



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Duty, F/M, Family, Forced Marriage, Future Fic, Goodbyes, Honor, Not Happy, Queen Daenerys, R plus L equals J, Royalty, Winterfell, With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility, more show universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 08:56:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7428325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reliquexia/pseuds/reliquexia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Queen wants her Northern Dragon, but the lone Wolf has to first leave his den.</p>
            </blockquote>





	While You Were Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Got this from highfunctioning-sassbutt on tumblr
> 
> I heard you were taking prompts and I will gladly fill your obsession! I don't have a situation but can u do one where Sansa tells Jon: "Father died for being honourable. I won't let you share the same fate." Thank you :)
> 
> [So I decided to take the most horrible of routes]

Supper was an unusually silent affair between the two normally bantering duo. They usually shared a stein of beer, or a mug of ale as they ate whatever rooted vegetable was made into a stew that day. Winterfell suffered a huge loss in men in their war for their Lady, and therein much of the labor force along with the farmers. While most of the men did not fight, many were elevated into higher positions in the Keep to fill the vacant roles of a functioning court. It left the biggest impact on food rations, that even their King and Lady felt. The herbs and aromas of their childhood meals were nothing, but faint winter memories. Each had revelled with their men too late that night, and were out of their wits drunk, trying to ease their stomachs with some stale bread they found. But something else left unsaid caused the greatest rift amidst the two last Starks. 

"She summoned me to King's Landing," he announced, taking another deep drink from his mug. He was almost in his cups by now, still mentioning for more to a servant nearby. "You'd think she'd want me less as a match when announced that I was her nephew, but I feel like it only caused her to write more frequently," he laughed without mirth. His face was red from drinking and thinking. Neither of the two seemed to help the current situation. 

"Targaryen's are known for their passionate love amongst bloodlines. She intends to raise a strong generation of dragons, and your seed would be the strongest out in Westeros. The blood of the hero from the lord of the Light," she mused, taking a long drink to match his stupor. They did not ever talk about their growing feelings. Neither was an affectionate person. Sansa buried all the sweet love she was taught to preserve for her promised Southern Prince with the death of her direwolf, while the last amount of desire Jon acted on caused the Wildling girl's death. Yet the sweet reunion of the last two wolves brought forth a rush of emotion. They shared chaste kisses, and held each other's hands in solidarity whenever the other needed strength. From the outside it would look like a paragon of a perfect family. And then Littlefinger had to destroy the one last good thing the half-siblings had. He showed Jon the truth of his lineage down in the crypts, shattering any hope of denial for the stronger passions that started to stir for his fire kissed half-sister. 

"I only want to strengthen the Starks. I want to strengthen us," he whispered words slurred enough that she knew this was his deepest admission to himself. Even then, she could try and pretend that the line was platonic, that there was no more meaning to his words than wanting to rebuild Winterfell stronger, and keep themselves married closeby to raise the North together. Is that not what they did for so long though? 

When he revealed his fate to her, instead of speaking up about his more than brotherly sentiment for Sansa, he became even further secluded than when he was nothing more than a bastard to her father. And their cruel fate would have it that this was finally when Sansa stopped denying her feelings for former half-brother. When she opened her eyes to the longing looks, and reciprocated them with equal fervor. That when their bannerman danced in merriment, and they would heckle their King to join, she would be the one to pull Jon out of his mind, fingers dry and assured on his wrists, tugging him to her as much as he wanted to fell into step with his Lady. That was the last time he allowed them to share any physical companionship, just a few days after the reveal. 

Months went by, and all that remained between the wolves were the restrained purse of his lips when he caught her singing to herself in the court, and her longing gaze at his lean form as she peeked secretly from his solar into the slip between his changing screens. There was a silent agreement between the two that they had a doomed fate. Davos explained to him the politics of the South, and how the safest bet for his people, and his cousin was his marriage into the hands of a powerful Southron lady. Sansa would the ruler of Winterfell, as she was the last trueborn eldest Stark alive. 

Sansa was meant to be a princess of the snow trodden hills of their home. He couldn't think of anything more beautiful than her silken red hair, with an ethereal looking crown of snowflakes dusted across, as she walked with Ghost around the weirwoods. Sansa should be adorned in all the silver and finery he was promised as the last dragon prince. He could think of nothing more right then, than the image of her bathing in the springs, wearing naught but all the rubies and emeralds he would gift her as his wife. It was only in the morning, and too late in the night when he was up in his cups that these treacherous thoughts seduced his mind. Right now he was in a heady mixture of the two, as the morning rays were hinting outside, and he'd yet to sober up. 

The faintest of dawn's rays hit her profile, making the crest bone under her eyes shine radiantly. He grabbed her arm, and pulled her to him.  
"I always lie to myself that I don't see your blush, or how your body reacts when you think no one is seeing," he says caressing her burnished hair. "But I want to be selfish. I want to give in to my base desires." he opens up, pulling her down to his lap, face nosing along her shoulders.

"We can't," she says, her breath catching itself, teeth grazing her lips for some relief. If there was one thing Sansa had accepted, it was that life had no fairy tales. All the days she spent singing make believe songs about her Southron lord had come true in the cruelest of ways. There on her bodice was the highest lords of the courts. The sole male heir, and the throne Prince of the South was hardened beneath her. The rays of morning created an ephemeral halo around his crown of dark hair, proving to her mind once again, that his purpose was higher than bedding and wedding a ruined woman. He had a destiny to bring peace and mercy to all of Westeros, and marrying back into the North would make no progress for his southern claim with his aunt. 

She wanted peace, and she wanted the killing to end for all the people. There was enough bloodshed in the world, and Sansa only trusted one man to be the honorable ruler on the coveted Iron Throne. A highborn lady must make sacrifices of love for the betterment of her people. She gently, with great restraint, and a few hot tears of her own, removed Jon's tongue from the puffed pink skin peeping above the decollete. With even greater frustration, his traveling fingers from the bunched up folds of her petticoat, an audible sound notifying her of the leftover emptiness within.

"Father died for being honourable. I won't let you share the same fate." she whispered, pouring her all in a final kiss, before retiring to her bed alone. Her cousin sincerely believed that love and family were the most honorable things to uphold. But he was wrong. Responsibility and obligation now weighed deeper on Sansa's mind. It was the repetitive ignorance of such that lead to all the disasters of the land. When Jon's father stole a man's bride as his own, starting Robert's Rebellion; the illegitimacy of Joffrey's reign cemented by Bran discovering the Kingslayer's forbidden desires, and worse, Littlefinger's priorities to his twisted sense of love so strong that he doomed her father, and eventually died at the cups by her own doing. 

They were not created in an age of love. Their's was a story of politics, and deaths dirtier than the the most defiled human beings darkest cravings come true. Mayhaps their children would find love together, or she imagined him searching for her in another life sometime when times were easier. When the burden of a title did not weigh them down.

**Author's Note:**

> (please send all criticisms because I really do wanna improve, and I've got tough skin kay? lol)  
> I totally think Dany is doomed, but who knows if she'll drag Jon down with her. Let's hope I'm wrong. Also, I'm really too lazy to write words the English way, and I'd call up my mom, but...yeah still to lazy haha. If anyone wants to beta and help me out??? *¯\\_(ツ)_/¯* I don't really know what I'm writing anymore, it's 5am let me stop. But also, is Sansa now a queen or is she still Lady of Winterfell? Because I was under the impression only bbDragon became KiTN. I also kind of ignore Bran and Arya's existence, but like that's what amps the angst in my head.


End file.
